Let It Be Christmas
by Seshat0120
Summary: Faced with financial difficulties, John and Thelma Beckett realize there's no way to give their sons much of a Christmas without some kind of miracle. This takes place when Sam is three and is the Christmas Sam makes reference to in It's Beginning To Lo
1. Prologue

**Let It Be Christmas**

_by Seshat0120_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

_**Christmas 1966**_

Thelma Beckett hurried down the street anxious to finish her Christmas shopping. With less than a week to go before the holiday, she was feeling woefully behind. She'd brought her 13-year-old son, Sam, along with her to help. As she hurried down the street she stopped several times dropping money into the red kettles of Salvation Army workers.

"Mom, how come you put something in every one?" Sam asked after the third such time his mother had stopped and dug money out of her purse.

Thelma got a far-away look in her eye and didn't answer her son.

"Mom?" he prompted.

Thelma shook herself from her memories. "You don't remember much of the Christmas when you were three, do you?"

Sam shook his head in the negative. "I just remember a red wagon and a train set but nothing really specific."

"Well, if it weren't for people like the Salvation Army you and your brother wouldn't have had much of a Christmas that year."

"What do you mean," Sam asked. He remembered times when things weren't so great but he couldn't remember them ever being that bad.

"It's a long story, Sam, but I guess you have a right to know about it." Thelma started to relate to her son the story of the Christmas he was three.


	2. Chapter 1

_Christmas 1956_

A steel gray sky stretched over the town and with it was the promise – or threat – of snow depending on if you were young or old. Despite the gloominess of the day, a certain merriment had taken hold of the town now that it was less than a week before Christmas. Decorations of all colors glittered and twinkled in shop windows and garlands of greens stretched across the street from lamp post to lamp post accented with bright red ribbons. The strains of Christmas songs could be heard wafting out of the doors of shops as they opened and closed.

A small boy was walking up the street holding tightly to the hand of his grandmother. A honey-colored teddy bear was held in a tight hug and two candy canes were clutched tightly in his fist. A red and black plaid flannel coat and matching hat kept the child warm.

When the boy spied a familiar face walking in his direction, he let go of the woman's hand and ran in the direction of the man calling out excitedly, "Daddy! Daddy! I saw him! I saw him!"

"Whoa, hold on there, Sammy. What's got you so excited," the father said bending down to be on eye level with the young child.

"I saw Santa and I sat on his lap and I talked to him." The excitement and joy radiated from the small frame and a smile split his face in two. "He gave me this," he said thrusting the candy canes out proudly to show his father. One's for Bear, but he can't eat it so I'm gonna give it to Tommy."

The father, John Beckett, lifted his son up in his arms and walked in the direction he'd come from to meet the older woman headed in their direction. He playfully pulled the brim of the hat down over his son's face. "That's real generous of you, Sammy. I bet Tommy's going to like that a lot."

Sammy pushed the hat back so that his eyes were uncovered and answered his father. "Uh huh, he is," he assured his father nodding his head with the wisdom of his three years. "Can I eat mine?"

"I suppose you can but only if you promise to eat your dinner when we get home."

"I will. I promise, Daddy," the child sincerely said. His green eyes widened in innocence with the promise.

"I take it Sam was a good boy while you did your shopping, Mother," John asked when the older woman, his mother Nettie Beckett, had joined them.

"He was a perfect angel just like he always is," the woman assured reaching a hand to pat Sam on the back of the head. "He was very excited to see Santa Clause, too."

"Hmm," John grunted without pleasure. "You get everything you needed?" At his mother's nod of agreement, John made a quick about face heading in the direction of his car. "We better head back to the farm then. Thelma's been alone long enough."

"She's not alone," Nettie pointed out. "Tommy's with her."

"I know Tommy's with her," John said stopping by the car and putting Sam down. He opened up the back door and watched while the little boy climbed inside and then closed the door before turning to his mother. "Tom's just a child. Thelma's been having a hard time with this pregnancy. I don't like to leave her alone longer than necessary in case something goes wrong." He'd made sure that the door acted as a barrier between him and his young son before speaking of the difficulties of his wife's pregnancy. There was no sense in worrying or scaring the child.

"You need to trust in God that things will work out for the best, John," Nettie said as she slipped through the car door that John held open for her.

They were well on their way home to the farm when John glanced a peek at Sam in the back seat. He was slumped over sound asleep. His teddy bear was carefully gripped in one arm and the remains of his candy cane was held tightly in his other fist. Red smears from the peppermint candy adorned his mouth and cheeks.

"You shouldn't have done that, you know," John said in a low voice to his mother once he was sure the child was asleep and not likely to hear him.

"Done what, John? I don't know what you mean?" Nettie asked in bewilderment.

"You shouldn't have taken him to see Santa Claus, that's what. It's cruel to get his hopes up. There's enough things in life that are going to hurt Sam. We don't need to add to it." John threw another loving look to his sleeping son in the backseat. He was only 40 years old but today he felt more like twice that age.

The last year had not proven to be a good year for the Beckett family. Rain had been scarce and their crops hadn't come up as they'd hoped. The cows didn't provide as much milk as they usually did and that, coupled with the failure of the corn crop meant that there was far less income from the farm this year. It would have been hard enough making ends meet and giving the boys a decent Christmas to begin with, but fate had conspired to make it even more difficult. Tom had fallen from a tree back in August breaking his arm; Sam had come down with a nasty case of the flu in early November; and Thelma's pregnancy was proving to be quite difficult often sending her to her bed. All in all, not only had the farm's income fallen short but a great part of it had gone to pay doctors and hospitals.

John and Thelma had sat down to talk about the situation they were in a couple of weeks ago. They'd concluded that if they were going to make it through the winter, they'd need to get a loan from the bank. Even with the loan there still wouldn't be enough money left to give the boys very much for Christmas. John had sat the two boys down and explained that, just like them, Santa had also had a tough year and that he probably wouldn't be able to bring them much but it didn't mean they weren't good boys. Tom had immediately understood the problem. At nine, he was on the border of not believing in Santa but kept up the pretext for his baby brother. At three, Sam still firmly believed that the benevolent saint brought him the gifts he received each Christmas morning. Despite his father's words, Sam had confidently announced that Santa would come this year just as he always did. John was dreading Christmas morning and the disappointment he'd see on Sam's face. He only hoped that by then Sam would have accepted that Santa was having a bad year, too.

"He's just a little boy, John. What was I supposed to say when he saw the other children all talking to Santa?" Nettie asked helplessly.

"I know, Mother," John sighed. "I just hate to see him disappointed. What did he ask Santa for anyway?"

"The same thing he's been clamoring for for the last couple of months. The child wants a red wagon, an electric train, and books. You should have seen the look on Santa's face when Sammy assured him that he could read quite well – and then proved it." Nettie laughed fondly thinking back to the way her grandson had quite confidently stated his ability to read. Even though it was something he'd been doing for a year, it had been the decision of John and Thelma not to make a big deal of it. After the testing that had been done on Sam, there was no doubt that he was a special child – a genius the doctors had said. Genius or not, they'd decided it was in his best interest to have as normal a childhood as he possibly could. To that end, it meant treating him just as they would any other 3 year old. Consequently, there weren't many people in the town of Elk Ridge who knew of his abilities.

John had seen it happen more than once where Sam would confidently proclaim his ability to read only to be met with doubt. He'd then prove his ability by reading material that was far beyond his years. It happened once where the doubter had sat with open-mouthed shock. Having no doubt that that was the exact reaction Santa would have had and picturing it, John joined his mother in laughter. The sound of their laughter woke the sleeping child in the back.

"What's funny, Daddy?" the small voice asked.

"Nothing, Son," John answered him. "Why don't you go on back to sleep until we get home."

"Ok, Daddy," Sam obediently responded and with that rare ability reserved only for the very young fell back to a deep sleep.

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When they got back to the farm, Sam woke up as soon as he felt the cessation of movement of the vehicle. Pushing open the door, he clamored from the vehicle running for the porch steps and calling out for his mother.

"Land sakes, child, what's all the fuss?" Thelma asked meeting him at the door.

"I saw Santa Claus, Mama and I talked to him." Sam looked up at his mother with wide, innocent eyes. At first he'd been excited at the prospect of a baby brother or sister but with each successive bout of illness his mother had suffered while carrying the baby, he'd grown more and more wary. As she started to grow larger he'd become afraid to touch her for fear that he'd cause her some kind of hurt.

Thelma lowered herself so that she was kneeling on eye level with her son. It was not an easy feat to accomplish for her. At just over 6 months pregnant, she was already carrying quite large. "That's wonderful, Sammy."

"He gave me this," Sam said thrusting out the remains of his candy cane for his mother to see. "Daddy said I could eat it if I promised to eat dinner and I promised," he quickly assured his mother. "He gave one to Bear too but Bear can't eat it so I'm gonna give it to Tommy. He was really nice, Mama."

"I'm sure he was, Sammy. Did you tell him what you want for Christmas this year?"

"Uh huh," Sam answered nodding his head. "I told him I want a red wagon and trains and books." He looked down to his feet and shyly whispered the last just barely loud enough for Thelma to hear him. "I asked Santa to make you all better so you don't get sick anymore."

"Oh Sweetheart," Thelma said gathering the little boy to her, "that was very generous of you." The small arms circled her neck gently squeezing in return. Thelma dropped a kiss down on the silken head and held Sam away from her cupping his face in her hands. "You're a very good boy to think of others and I'm very proud of you."

Shyly Sam smiled before stepping in to hug his mother once more. "I love you, Mama."

"I love you too, Sammy." This time when the hug broke, Thelma climbed awkwardly to her feet and put out her hand to Sam leading back to the kitchen. "Let's go clean off your face and you can go give Tommy his candy cane."

John had silently watched the interaction between mother and son from the top step of the porch, his mother next to him. He sighed as he watched Thelma and Sam go deeper into the house. "They all deserve better than this."

Nettie put a placating hand on his shoulder. "God will provide, John. God will provide."


	3. Chapter 2

The next few days were a whirl of activity in the Beckett home as Christmas Eve approached. Family would be coming to the house on Christmas Eve and Thelma was bound and determined that everything would be perfect when they arrived. Thankfully she'd felt stronger this week than she had in a while making it easier to get the work accomplished.

The only dull spot in the days was Sam's continued insistence that Santa Claus would come and bring him his heart's desire.

Christmas Eve had dawned cold and gray and by the time evening rolled around there was a thin coating of snow over everything. More nuisance than anything else, it gave the outdoors that special holiday look.

The family bundled into the car driving into town for Christmas Eve services. At the end of services, the adults paused to talk with the reverend. While they did, Sam, becoming bored, wandered over to where the piano was and climbed up to the bench placing Bear down beside him. He softly started to push on the keys delighted to hear the sound issuing forth from the instrument. He'd watched his mother play the piano at home many times and had always wanted to do it himself. Every time he tried someone was always there telling him not to touch.

"You better get down from there," Tom advised coming over to stand by his brother. "You know you're not supposed to touch."

"I'm not touching, I'm playing," Sam answered his brother refusing to give up his seat.

Tom laughed at Sam's answer. "You can't play the piano. You're just pretending and if Mama and Daddy see you, they're not going to be happy."

"Can too play," Sam insisted. "Listen." Unerringly his fingers picked out the opening bars to _Angels We Have Heard on High._

The sound of music coming from the piano soon garnered the attention of the adults. Thelma quickly rushed over to gather Sam away from the piano just as he picked out the notes perfectly. "Sammy?" she said in surprise. "Where did you learn that?"

The child jumped at the sound of his mother's voice hastening to get off the piano bench as fast as he could. "I'm sorry, Mama. I shouldn't have touched it."

"Told you," Tom said with a smirk.

"No, Sammy," Thelma hastened to reassure him. "I'm not upset with you. I just want to know where you learned to play that."

"I dunno," Sam answered with a shrug. "I heard you play it and it just got stuck."

"Can you play it again for Mama," Thelma asked leading Sam back over to the piano.

Wide-eyed he nodded his head climbing back onto the piano bench. Again he perfectly picked out the notes to the melody of _Angels We Have Heard on High_.

"That was beautiful, Sammy," Thelma assured him when he was done. The other three adults stood near the piano in open-mouthed wonder as they listened to three year old flawlessly play the melody.

"Can we go home now?" Sam asked acutely aware of the attention he was being given and uncomfortable with it.

Thelma exchanged a quick look with John before turning her attention back to her son. "Of course we can, Sweetheart. Let's say goodnight to Fr. O'Connell and we can get going."

Sam climbed down off the bench gathering Bear under one arm and put out his other hand out to his mother. After goodbyes had been said, the family again headed out to the car.

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When a knock sounded on the front door, Thelma bustled over to answer it. "Don't touch," she said to Sam as she walked by him. Since it had been set up on the table in the parlor, Sam had become enthralled with his grandmother's nativity and was constantly trying to pick up the pieces. Thelma intercepted his hand just as he was reaching for a sheep.

"Oh, he can't hurt it, Thelma," Nettie said defending him. "Let the child touch it."

"He needs to learn he shouldn't touch everything, Mother. If we let him start now who knows what he'll take into his mind to touch and take apart." Thelma leaned down dropping a kiss on Sam's head to take the sting out of her words before continuing on to the door. That began the progression of aunts and uncles and cousins into the house.

The family enjoyed a hearty meal in the kitchen before all gathering in the parlor. While Thelma played the piano kept there, they all took part in singing the different Christmas songs. From his place in his father's arms, Sam laughed brightly and sang along with everyone else.

"I'm gonna play the piano next year," he assured everyone when the singing was done. They all knew better than to doubt him.

As the night wore on, Thelma brought the two boys upstairs to change into their pajamas. They'd be allowed to go downstairs with the visiting family for a little while longer but then it would be off to bed. "Gotta be asleep before Santa gets here," Sam reminded his mother as she pulled up the zipper on his red, one-piece fleece pajamas.

"Don't be dumb, Sammy," Tom admonished from across the room where he was changing. "You know Dad said Santa was too poor to come this year."

"No he's not," Sam cried out. "An' I'm not dumb either."

"Tommy, that wasn't a very nice thing to say to your brother," Thelma chastised her older son as she pushed herself up to her feet.

"I know. I'm sorry, Sammy," Tom apologized giving his little brother a quick hug. "I just don't want you to be sad tomorrow if Santa doesn't leave much."

"He's gonna come," Sam repeated with finality before running from the room.

Tom gave his mother a helpless look. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and led him from the room. "He's too young to understand, Tommy. He'll be all right, though. You'll see."

An hour and a half later, Thelma decided it was time for her two boys to head off to bed. The visiting family members had already started to leave and it was starting to get late. "Where'd Sam get to?" she asked Tom once she'd corralled him.

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno."

"You stay put right here," Thelma told him. "I'll go look for him."

She bumped into John in the hallways as he shut the door behind his cousin. "John, did you see where Sammy got to?"

John put his arm around his wife's shoulder walking with her in the direction of the parlor. "Last I saw he was sitting on the floor looking at the tree lights. He said the tree was all 'twinkly' and he liked looking at it."

They found Sam still under the tree except instead of sitting looking at the lights he'd curled up under it falling asleep, his Bear wrapped tight in his arms. John bent down and lifted the little boy to his shoulder. As soon as he felt himself moving, Sam woke up.

"Daddy? Is it morning he asked?" rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Hardly, son. It's time for you to go to bed." John headed for the stairs where Tom was patiently waiting.

"Can't go to bed yet," Sam protested. "I didn't leave any milk and cookies for Santa."

John looked to his wife helplessly.

"Don't you worry about that, Sweetheart," Thelma assured Sam. "I'll make sure there's milk and cookies on the table for him. You go on up to bed with Daddy and I'll be up in a little while to tuck you in."

"Okay, Mama. I love you." Tiredly, Sam laid his head down on his father's shoulder just barely awake.

"I love you too, Sammy," Thelma returned brushing the silky, dark-blonde hair back from his face. "I love you, Tommy," she said kissing her older child.

Thelma was just heading up the stairs to tuck in to the two boys when John came down. "Sam's almost out," he said when he reached the bottom step. I think he wore himself out chasing his cousins tonight. He pulled his wife in to a quick hug, kissing her on the cheek. "How are you doing? There was a lot going on here tonight. I hope it didn't wear you out too much."

"I'm just fine, John. Stop worrying." Thelma started on her way up the stairs but paused turning back around to John. "When I come back down we can get out the boys' Christmas gifts and put them under the tree."

"That shouldn't take long," John said ruefully.

"It'll work out, John. You'll see," Thelma assured him and then continued up the stairs.

She slipped silently into the boys' room going first to Sam's bed. She nearly couldn't find him in the bed he'd curled himself into such small ball. As always, Bear was tucked in close to him. Gently she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled the quilt up and snuggled it under his chin to be sure he'd warm throughout the night before leaning over and kissing him on the forehead.

"Mama?" he said sleepily.

"Hush, Sammy, it's time for you to sleep," she whispered as she brushed the baby-fine hair back from his face.

"Did you leave the cookies for Santa," he asked.

Thelma felt a pang of disappointment as she answered. "Of course, Sweetheart. We don't want him to get hungry do we?"

"Uh uh. I love you Mama."

"I love you too, Sammy. Go to sleep now." She kissed him once more and rose from the bed going over to Tommy. She repeated the same actions of sitting on his bedside and tucking him before kissing him goodnight.

Sure that both of her children were settled in their beds warmly for the night and both well on their way to sleep, she slipped silently out of the room pulling the door partially closed behind her.

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In the parlor, Nettie and John were both sitting. John had turned off all of the lights in the room and gaily decorated Christmas tree provided a soft, soothing light to the room.

"They're both asleep," Thelma said coming into the room. When John held his arms out to her, she walked over to him, sitting down in his lap and leaning her head on his shoulder. They didn't exchange any words but the deep love between them was plain enough.

Nettie watched the couple for a moment before rising from her chair. "It's late and I think I'm going to follow the example of those two boys and head to bed myself."

"Goodnight, Mother," John and Thelma both said.

Nettie got as far as the doorway before she turned back. "I know you don't put much stock in miracles, John, but tonight's a night of miracles."

Without saying anything more, she left the room.

"Whatever did she mean by that?" Thelma asked.

Before John could answer, a knock came at the door. "I wonder who forgot what?" Thelma said getting up from John's lap. She walked out to the hall with John behind curious to see who was at the door.

When Thelma pulled open the door, there was no one on the porch. She stepped just outside the door to see if she could see anyone in the night and gasped when she saw what had been left on the porch. Reacting to his wife's gasp, John quickly joined her on the porch.

"What is all this?" he asked when he saw what had garnered the reaction from his wife.

"I don't know." Thelma surveyed the array of parcels on the porch. Most of it was in shopping bags and she couldn't see what it was but two objects weren't – a brand new bicycle and a small red wagon. There was a white envelope in the wagon and she picked it up, tore it open, pulled out the lone sheet of paper inside, and read it aloud. "To help make your sons' Christmas a little brighter. Merry Christmas." She turned the paper over to see if there was anything on the back. "There's no signature." She looked again at the array of gifts at her feet and turned wide, unbelieving eyes to John. "Who could have left all of this?"

"I don't know, Thelma," John said as he squatted down and pulled a box out of one of the bags. It was an electric train set much like the one Sam had been entranced with in the store window when they'd gone into town a couple of weeks ago. He slipped the box back in the bag and stood up. "I don't much care for charity."

"John!" Thelma scolded thinking he was going to refuse the gift they'd been given. "The boys have a right to have a happy Christmas."

"Which they can have without all of this," John added gesturing to the pile of gifts.

"I know that, John, and you know that but they're children. Sam's only three. How do you plan to explain to him tomorrow that Santa just didn't come this year? As bright as he is, he's not going to understand and it'll break his heart and for all that Tom claims he understands, I know inside he's hoping that Santa will come for him, too. This gives us the chance to make their dreams come true – to make them laugh and smile on Christmas. We can't turn that down."

John heaved a sigh and picked up the first bag carrying it into the house. "You're right, Thelma. We can't deny the boys' happiness on Christmas."

It took several trips to carry in all of the gifts that had been left. While John brought them in, Thelma started to sort them into piles appropriate to each of the boys. Where she was done, there was a sizeable pile of gifts for each of them. In addition to toys, games, and books, there was also clothing in both Tom and Sam's sizes. Once it was all sorted, she set about wrapping the gifts. When John started to help, she shooed him off. "I've never seen a man who could wrap a gift well. You just leave this to me." She handed him a bag of small gifts and candy. "Go on and put that in their stockings while I finish this."

It's was nearly 2:00 am by the time Thelma had finished wrapping all of the gifts and placing them under the tree. "They're going to be so excited when they see it all," she said happily when John helped her up from the floor.

"They will but I think we're forgetting something."

Thelma watched as John went into the coat closet in the hall. He pulled out several items and brought them over to the tree. On each pile of gifts he placed a book; a wooden animal that he'd carved – a horse for Sam and bear for Tom; and bright woolen scarves, mittens, and hats that Thelma had knit for them.

With the last of the gifts in place, John turned off the lights on the tree and, with his arm around Thelma's waist, led her from the room up to their bedroom.


	4. Chapter 3

Sam couldn't decide if it was still nighttime or if it was early morning since it was still dark in the room. He held very still in his bed barely breathing. If it was still the middle of the night Santa might still be there and if he knew that Sam was awake, he might leave without leaving any presents.

Finally the little boy couldn't contain his impatience any longer. Deciding that since he'd stayed still so long and hadn't heard anything, Santa must have already come and gone, he risked pushing the covers off and crawling down to the foot of his bed to check his stocking. He was delighted to see it hanging from his bedpost fat and heavy and full of surprises. As silently as he could, he pulled it around until it was leaning on the foot of the bed and started pulling out the gifts that filled it.

He only pulled the first two items from the stocking when he couldn't contain his glee any longer. Slipping down from his bed, he crossed over to the other side of the room where his brother still lay sleeping, climbed up on the bed next to him, and started poking at him. "Tommy, wake up and come see. Tommy."

The older boy was not pleased to be pulled from his sleep and pushed his brother to stop the poking. "Would you quit it, Sammy. I'm tryin' to sleep."

"But, Tommy, you gotta wake and see. Santa came." Sam resumed his insistent poking at his brother.

Unable to ignore the constant prodding, Tom sat up in bed scowling at Sam. "You know Daddy said Santa could come this year so go back to bed and leave me alone."

Sam looked at his brother with wide eyes. "But he did, Tommy. Look at your stocking." He pointed to the foot of his brother's bed where another stocking hung fat with gifts.

"Wow!" Tom exclaimed when he saw his bulging stocking. "But Daddy said…"

"I told you Santa would come," Sam said with satisfaction. "Daddy just made a mistake." The little boy paused in thought, his brow crinkling. "Daddy says it's ok if we make mistakes so it's ok if he makes one too, right?" The realization that his father had been wrong about something wasn't sitting well with Sam.

Tom put his arm around his brother's shoulders pulling him in close. "Sure it's ok if Dad makes a mistake. I bet he knew Santa would come all along but didn't want us to be disappointed just in case. That's all."

Sam brightened up at his brother's reassurances and scrambled from the bed running back to his and finished delving into his stocking. "Tommy, what are these?" he asked holding up some twisted pieces of metal.

Tom, who'd also been emptying his stocking, looked across to what his brother was holding and down to the matching item he'd pulled from his, shrugged, and quickly scanned the small instruction book attached. "You're supposed to be able to separate the pieces," he reported.

Understanding what he was supposed to do with the twisted metal, Sam bent his head to the task. On his bed, Tom also attempted to solve the puzzle. The two worked in silence for the next couple of minutes until Sam joyously cried out, "I did it" and held the pieces out for Tom to see.

"That's great, Sammy," Tom commented putting his puzzle down. Over the last year he'd come to accept that fact that his baby brother was able to do things he wasn't.

Sam snapped the two pieces of the puzzle back together and climbed down from his bed. He reached out to grab Bear and tucked him under his arm. "I wanna go downstairs and see what else Santa brought."

Tom still was sure there'd be anything under the tree when they got there. He didn't want to be the only one to console his brother if that happened and tried to dissuade Sam from leaving the room. "It's still early, Sammy. Mama and Daddy and Grandma are still sleeping. We should stay here so we don't wake them up."

"I'm not gonna wake them up," Sam replied confidently. "I'm gonna be real quite and I'm just gonna peek. C'mon, Tommy. Come with me."

Reluctantly, Tom got off his bed and followed Sam out of the room. "Just remember to be real quiet," he reminded his brother as they tiptoed down the stairs. When they got to the door of the living room, they both froze when the saw the pile of gaily wrapped presents under the tree. "He came!" Tom blurted out.

"Told you he would," Sam replied confidently before turning around and running back up the stairs. All promises of quiet were forgotten and he ran shouting to his parents' room. "Mama, Daddy! Santa came. He came." He reached the door of the room and burst through it running up the bed.

Hearing the commotion, John sat up in bed just as Sam threw himself into his arms. "Whoa, slow down there, Sammy. What's got you all excited?"

Sam threw his arms around his father's neck squeezing hard. "He came, Daddy, he really came."

"Who came?" John asked though he knew the answer to the question. He pitched his voice low in the hopes of not waking Thelma who still slept next to him in the bed.

Glancing quickly at this still-sleeping mother and following John's lead, Sam also pitched his voice low. "Santa came, Daddy?" he said in an exaggerated whisper. "He left us lots of stuff. I knew he would." Sam tugged at his father's hand trying to pull him from the bed. "C'mon, Daddy. Come and see."

"Hang on, Son," John huffed out in a laugh. "Let's wait until your Mama wakes up."

"She's awake, John," Thelma said from beside him. She pushed herself up to sit in the bed and held her arms out to Sam who climbed into her lap much more gently than he had his father's.

"Mama, Santa really came," he told her with wide-eyed wonder.

Tom joined them in the room leaning against his father's side of the bed. "I tried to stop him before he came up here," he explained.

"I don't think anything could stop your brother he's so excited," Thelma answered. "I'm surprised you're not more excited yourself, Tom."

Hearing that it was ok that Sam had woken his parents, Tom's face broke out in a big grin and the excitement he'd been holding back shone through. "Mom you gotta see everything downstairs. I saw a bicycle and a wagon just like the kind Sam wanted."

"Can we go open the presents?" Sam asked from where he still sat in his mother's lap.

"We can once your Grandma wakes up," John answered.

Before anyone could grab him, Sam scrambled off his mother's lap and ran for the door. "I'll wake her," he called out as he left the room.

"No, Sam, wait," John said trying to stop him but the little boy was out the door before he was able to get out of bed. He still gave chance anyway hoping to grab him before he woke up his grandmother. As it turned out, he didn't have to bother. Having heard Sam's excited entry into his parents' room, Nettie had already woken. She met Sam halfway down the hall and scooped him up in her arms.

"I guess you snuck downstairs to see what Santa left you?" she asked him tweaking his nose.

Sam nodded broadly at her. "I sure did and he left us lots of stuff. Daddy said we had to wait 'til you woke up to open them but you're awake now so we can open our presents."

"I guess we can," Nettie laughed as she set him down on his feet. Sam scampered off leading the way back to the living room. Tom was close on his heels and the adults followed at a slightly slower pace.

The boys' shouts of delight soon filled the house as they pulled off the wrappings from the pile of presents. The carved wooden horse had joined Bear in sitting beside Sam in a place of honor. Soon everything had been unwrapped leaving the living room floor covered in a pile of gaily-colored paper.

As the boys gleefully started looking at each other's presents, Nettie came over to where Thelma and John sat close by each other on the couch. "It looks like a Christmas miracle," she said with a light laugh. "I guess Santa really came for the boys this year."

John looked up knowingly at his mother. He was sure how but he had a suspicion that she'd had something to do with gifts that were left on the porch for Sam and Tom. "I guess it is, Mother. I guess it is." John didn't have a chance to question Nettie about where the gifts came from before Sam came over to them. He had Bear clutched under his arm and the carved horse he carried in his hand. He'd put on the scarf, hat and gloves that his mother had knit for him – their green color highlighting the green in his eyes. "Can we go play out in the snow now?" he asked with an infectious grin.

"I think you need to dress warmer than that, Sammy," John answered scooping his son up and into his lap.

"And you need to eat breakfast, too," Thelma added from her place next to her husband.

"Mom, Dad, Grandma," look at this Tom said in excitement bringing one of the games he'd unwrapped over to the adults to show them. Not wanting to be undone, Sam climbed down off his father's lap to bring a box of his own over to them. As the boys ran back and forth excitedly showing off what they had John pulled Thelma in close to him and kissed her tenderly. The Christmas morning that they'd both been dreading had turned into a special morning thanks to the kindness of strangers and they took joy as the sound of the sons' laughter filled the house.


	5. Epilogue

_**Christmas 1966**_

Sam put the last bite of apple pie in his mouth and washing it down with milk before asking "Did you ever find out where all the gifts came from?" when his mother once she'd finished her story.

They'd come into Flo's Diner as Thelma told her story for some pie. Now with both the pie and the story done, Thelma fished money out of her pocketbook to leave on the table. "We never did find out although your father always thought your Grandma had something to do with it." She got up from the table and let Sam help her into her coat. "That would have been an awful Christmas if it hadn't been for the generosity of strangers. That's why I can't walk by without trying to help others who might be in the same fix we were that year."

Sam pulled on his own coat and followed his mother out of the diner. "That makes a lot of sense, Mom." They walked a little ways up the street and this time when they passed the bell ringer with the kettle, Sam put his hand in his pocket. He pulled out the quarter he found there and dropped it in the kettle, wishing the woman ringing the bell a merry Christmas. Thelma looked approvingly at her son and resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. At thirteen he'd deemed himself too old for that.

Seeing his mother's look of approval Sam smiled bashfully and shrugged. "I guess I just want to make sure if a kid needs that kind of help somewhere they get it." He slipped his arm around his mother as they walked up the street to the car. Though he didn't say it aloud, he made a promise to himself that from that day on he, like his mother, would never walk by without helping where he could.


End file.
